Cain and Able
by Hobbilobicus60
Summary: Adrian and Isaac are cousins. Orphaned at a young age, they were taken in by a Church in Jerusalem. After dishing out punishment to one of the local lord's sons for stealing from their church, they stumble onto a path that lead them to their destinies.
1. Prologue

I followed Isaac into a dark alley, keeping my hood low over my face. I gave a short, sidelong glance behind me to make sure no one followed. Isaac checked farther down the alleyway to make sure no one else was there. When it was all clear, he came back to me and whispered, "Do you remember the plan, cousin?"

I nodded, saying, "I couldn't forget." The plan was simple; punish the lord's son. He was probably fast asleep in the palace by now, the sun having set hours before. I reached down to my waist to make sure that rope was still there. The plan was to climb into the little lord's bedroom, which was on the third story of the palace. Every body should be either sloppy drunk or knocked out cold from the little party the lord was throwing for his friends. It had been the talk of the district for weeks, so we decided to make sure which day. We had had the foresight earlier that week to get as close to the palace as the guards would let us. There looked to be plenty of holds for us, enough to where climbing shouldn't be a problem, statues of angels and gargoyles alike climbing up the wall. When we were done with the little lord, he'd be crying for the guards to help him. We'd have to get out fast, and the best way we could think of was down a rope.

Isaac took a deep breath, hopping lightly up and down on his toes. His excitement was nearly visible in the air around him as he crackled with energy. "Are you ready," I asked him, his nervous energy contagious. His smile could be clearly seen in the darkness. "Are you," he asked. I felt my own smile tugging at my lips as I nodded.

I braced my back against the wall and cupped my hands in between my legs. Isaac placed his hand on my shoulder for balance, and then stepped into my hands. Flexing my back, arms, and legs, I pushed him up towards the roof of the building behind me. It was only about eight foot tall, but it was a hard push for that eight feet.

Finally, Isaac managed to get a hold on the lip of the roof, and he pulled himself up, his sandaled feet scrambling on the wall of the building. I looked up after him, his cloak disappearing over the edge of the building to reveal a dark blue ocean that was filled with a million bright, tinkling stars. Looking at the sky always made me feel small, younger than my sixteen years. But I still couldn't help but be amazed by its beauty.

Then Isaac's face returned, and I couldn't help but smirk at the contrast between the two. Isaac's face was sharp and angular, his eyes a golden brown color the seemed to glow in the right light. He had a a pronounced nose that reminded me of a beak. Not exactly the beautiful sort, so naturally I made fun of him for it.

He found things to make fun of me for as well. I was slightly taller than him, although I was slightly more muscled than he was. He could run a little faster than me, but I was twice as strong as he was.

He reached down for me as he asked, "Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing," I said as I jumped to grab his hand, and nearly had him tumbling down at the same time. He grunted and groaned as he tried to pull me up. I scrambled up the wall as fast as I could. After a few moments, I could reach the edge of the building and pulled myself up. When I stood up, Isaac was leaning on his knees, catching his breath.

"You big ox, you need to stop eating Aunt Dorothy's turnovers," he said, referring to the Sister at the orphange. She had introduced herself as Sister Dorothy and was not to be called anything else. Much to the plump woman's annoyance, and to mine and Isaac's enjoyment, she had disliked being called Aunt Dorothy so much that the name had stuck.

"Maybe you should start," I said, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "You could use a bit more meat on your bones."

"If you're not careful, you might just break that rope you brought tonight," he said with a teasing smile.

"Let's hope you won't try to catch me. I don't think Auntie would like to wash that out of my clothes," I said with a smile just as teasing. He shoved at me good naturedly, and we both looked in the direction of the palace.

It was easy enough to see, mainly because the moon was out in full tonight. The palace was on the other side of Jerusalem, deep within the Rich District. However, I could see the very top of the palace, towering above the shops around it. A guard tower jutted up from beside it. A guard was usually on top of it, so we would have to wait until he was on the other side of the guard tower before we started to climb.

As I started to say we should be on our way, I heard the flutter of wings and looked up to see a pidgeon flying above us. Curiously enough, a note was tied to its leg. It wasn't so strange that it was carrying a note, plenty of people used carrier pidgeons. In fact, they were pretty common in Jerusalem. It was the time; not many people let their pidgeons fly in the dark, afraid that the birds would get lost in the dark.

I dismissed it that the pidgeon was coming from long away, maybe from Damascus or Acre, and got Isaac's attention. I pointed to the bird and said, "Look, there's your brother."

"Hahaha, you're so funny," he said, kicking out at my shin. I pulled it back in time for it to miss and couldn't help but chuckle.

"I thought you said you were ready to go," he said.

"Just wondering when you're ready to stop cracking jokes," I teased. He opened his mouth to say something, but since he couldn't come up with anything, he promptly shut it again. I laughed as he took off across the building, leaping onto the scaffold of the new second story shop that was being built. I followed him, my leaps not quite as far as his.

And soon, the race was on, each of us trying to beat the other to the palace. I ran across planks that spanned across the breadth of the main alleys, through hanging gardens, leaped from balcony to balcony, but I just wasn't as fast as Isaac. Where he could leap from rooftop to rooftop, I would have to find a longer way, sometimes having to go ten feet out of my way to run across a scaffolding or up a ladder. So, I wasn't surprised that he was sitting on top of one of the guard posts, out of breath and holding out his middle finger to me.

I sat down next to him, just as breathless, and slapped his hand away. As we stopped to catch our breath, I glanced over at Isaac, who was staring up at the stars. He often did that at night as he thought. He often told me his deepest secrets, as I often told him mine. Now, mine weren't nearly as bad as his. When I told him that I had finally gotten my first kiss from Dana, one of the other orphans who was a few years older than us, he decided to tell me how he got his. The butcher down the street was still angry about catching Isaac in his daughter's bed.

Then again, some of Isaac's thoughts were different, much more innocent. He once told me about wishing he was an eagle or falcon. "To be so free," he had said. "Sailing on the wind, hanging in the air for forever, to feel the air pass over you. That is what I yearn for. That freedom." Whenever he got a wispy, carefree expression, I knew that was what he was thinking about. He wore that expression now, and I knew why.

Ever since the orphange in Jerusalem took us in as babes, we were ordered to do things. Scrub the walls of the church, mop the halls of the living quarters, wash the dishes, menial, insignificant chores that I hated just as much as Isaac. Isaac had always been the more independent of us though. He was the first to sneak out, but he was caught the same night. The Sisters scolded him and gave him double chores for a month, but he still didn't stop.

The next time he had gotten caught, the Sisters threatened to throw him out. That night, I had argued with him about it, telling him how it was safer to remain in the orphanage, how bandits roamed the streets at night. He had sat by quietly, waiting for me to finish.

When I finally had, he had stood up, walked over to the window, and clambered onto the stone edge of it. "What are you doing," I had hissed at him. He had looked back at me and said, "Showing you why I keep sneaking out." When he had jumped out of the window, I had no choice but to follow him. Looking back on it now, I was glad I had followed him. There was indeed a certain..._thrill_ of it.

Coming back to the moment at hand, I stood up, refreshed from the little break. Isaac stood beside me, and we both walked to the edge of the roof and slipped to the ground below. We both bent our knees when we touched the ground, absorbing the shock and the noise of the fall. Luckily for us too, because right at that moment, two guards walked right in front of the entrance to the alley we were in.

Neither of us moved, and I could hear Isaac's breath, short and shallow. My eyes were wide as they focused on the guards. We weren't supposed to be on palace grounds, and the lord's guards weren't known for their kindness towards intruders. They stopped, looked down the alley we were in, and my heart stopped beating. But it was a quick glance, mechanical and nothing more. The guards continued on their way without so much as a break in step.

I let out the breath I had been holding, as did Isaac. When I glanced at Isaac, he was grinning from ear to ear. I found myself wearing my own wicked smile as we crept to the end of the alley. The guards were a few dozen feet away by now, and we surveyed the area. The palace was protected by a stone wall, ten feet tall and with little to grab hold. A line of short, squat buildings hugged each other all the way down the cobblestone street. However, the buildings pressed in close, close enough for us to leap off of. We would just have to time it right to get in without being noticed. The thought of that snapped a dangerous question into my mind.

I leaned in close to Isaac's ear and whispered, "How are we supposed to get out of the wall?"

The question made his brows furrow in thought. He hadn't anticipated that either. Neither of us had hooks to grapple onto the wall. All we had was the one rope that was looped around my waist.

"Well, they've got to have stairs to get on the wall, right," he asked. I could only offer him a shrug. The logic did sound pretty good. He looked back out to the wall as he thought, talking as he did. "Yes, they'd have to have a staircase somewhere. We go with the original plan, and then leap onto a building to get out." Nodding to confirm his plan, he looked to me and nodded again. Having nothing better to offer, I agreed with a short nod.

Looking for guards again, we sprinted across the street. Isaac slid to a stop within the shadows, and I was there a moment after him, slapping my back to the wall of one of the buildings. Checking to see that we hadn't been seen, we snuck off, sticking to the shadows whenever we could, looking for a good place to climb up to a roof. Luckily, the palace had very few guards patrolling the streets tonight, and we didn't see anyone. _They were all probably so drunk they were pissing themselves in their sleep_, I thought to myself, another grin tugging at my lips.

Coming around to one side of a house, a rickety, old ladder leaned against one of the buildings, a collection of clay pots and jugs laying around the base of it. I tapped Isaacs shoulder and jerked my head towards it, both of us moving to the ladder.

Before I could start climbing up, he stopped me and whispered, "I'll get up high enough to see over the edge of the wall. I'll check for guards, lights, and, hopefully, some stairs. If it's all clear, I'll let you know to come up."

I nodded, knowing that he had the better eyes between the two of us. He climbed the ladder, and I crouched in the shadows, keeping my eyes watching for any guards that might come around the corners.

In a few moments, I heard Isaac's sandaled feet coming down the rungs of the ladder. When he was on the ground, he slid beside me and whispered in my ear, "There's four guards patrolling the wall, six guards around the palace, and at least two in the tower. A few lights are on in some of the higher rooms, but they're very dim and flickering. I saw some stairs on the other side of the wall, so I hope there's another set on this side." I nodded, trying to decide what we should do next.

"Did you see anything that we could hide in once we get over the wall," I asked him, keeping my voice low. Isaac thought about it for a moment, and said, "There were a line of bushes on the far side of the wall, but I have no idea if there will be any on this side."

I cursed under my breath. I thought about it for a moment. The far wall would be nearly impossible to climb, as it was just as smooth as this side. The city walls were about thirty feet tall. They'd been there for a while, so there might be some cracks in the walls that we could use to climb, but I doubted we could leap the eight foot to the palace wall. What to do...?

"We jump the wall, and hope there's something below," I said. It was weak, but it was the best thing I could come up with. The guards wouldn't let any servants after sunset, even if they were servants in the palace. If they couldn't make it back before they shut the doors, too bad for them.

Isaac nodded, both agreeing and acknowledging the many things that could go wrong, although he couldn't come up with anything himself. I took a quick breath and started climbing the ladder, being very careful to test each step before I fully placed my whole weight on it; the ladder looked ready to fall apart and it creaked with every step I took. Isaac had less problems, considering his much lighter frame. We were both soon on the roof, hiding behind a clothes line that was fluttering with still damp clothing.

Isaac peeked out from behind a shirt to watch the guards on top of the tower. They were close enough to make out two bodies leaping over the wall. After a moment, Isaac shook his head. "They're not there anymore," he said, his eyes trained on the top of the tower.

"It must be a change in the shifts. Let's be quick; this may be our only chance," I said, my sudden urgency evident in my voice. A knot of anticipation clenched itself in my gut; this was it. This was where our plan would succeed or fail.

Isaac nodded and braced himself for a moment, set his toes into the roof, and then shot off like an arrow. His foot pushed off of the edge of the house roof and he sailed through the air. His arms and legs spun in the air, and at the very last moment, he reached out with both hands and caught the edge of the wall. There was a sound _thump_ as his chest smacked into the stone, but he was already scrambled up and over the crenulated lip of the stone. Perched in one of the gaps of the crenulations, he glanced both ways.

Seeing it all clear, he motioned for me to follow him, and it didn't take me long to start sprinting towards the wall myself. I wasn't nearly as fast as Isaac though, and my jump was almost too short. I barely caught it with my fingertips, the stone scraping and cutting at the tips of my fingers. My heart leaped to my throat and I tried to catch a hold on the wall with my feet. I began slipping down the wall until Isaac noticed me starting to fall. He leaped over to me, catching me by the hood of my cloak. He grunted and gritted his teeth as he struggled to pull me over. I did everything I could to get over the lip as well; I knew that he wouldn't let go, even if his clothes were on fire and if a sword was falling towards his hands. Because of this, if I fell, he would fall with me. Fifteen foot to the hard cobblestone street would like end in broken bones, and questions from the Sisters. Which would of course get us kicked out of the orphanage.

After a few terrifying moments, I could finally pull myself over the lip of the wall. I rolled onto the inner wall that the guards used to walk and thanked whatever God was watching us that no guards had come walking by.

"How many times am I going to have save your big ass from falling," Isaac asked me.

"About as many times as I'm going to have to save your skinny ass from a fight," I retorted, already moving towards the ledge. I peeked over to see a hedge of bushes directly below; perfect. As I started to slip off the ledge, I felt something slam into my back, sending me flying over the edge and towards the ground below.

I landed with a heavy thump amid the hedges. The wind knocked from my body and a small cactus poking its sharp needles in my rump. Isaac was laying beside me, and I couldn't help but kick his shoulder. He slapped his finger to his lips, his face scrunched up with urgency. Then he pointed up back towards the wall. A guard was leaned over the edge, peering down. My heart skipped a beat, stopped dead, and then raced like a hare. I was afraid the guard would hear it, but he turned around with a final suspicious glare. "Musta been a owrl," he mumbled drunkenly, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes with his fists.

I looked to Isaac. "Drunk guards," I asked him with a breath. He shrugged and whispered back, "Not our problem."

I nodded and picked myself up to my knees, peering through the twigs and branches of the hedge bush. I didn't see any guards. I asked if Isaac did, and he shook his head. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and looked towards the palace wall. Let's see, the lord's son was supposed to be on the third floor. I leaned over to Isaac to discuss the plan with him. "So we run across the courtyard, climb the wall, find the room, beat the kid, slide down the wall on a rope, run up the stairs on the outer wall, and get away from any guards. That about right?"

Isaac took a moment to think about it, then nodded and said, "Yep."

I felt my face screw up in distaste. "So simple, and yet so dangerous."

"Think of it this way," Isaac whispered in his carefree, light hearted voice. "At least we can't screw the plan up."

I rolled my eyes at him, yet couldn't help but agree with his logic. I took a deep breath and said, "On three?"

He nodded and took a deep breath as well. We both counted, both preparing ourselves.

"One..."

I dug my toes into the sandy ground, getting a firm hold on the dirt with my sandals.

"Two..."

I raised myself off my knees, putting all my weight on my fingers, leaning dangerously forward. I flexed my arms and legs, getting the blood flowing through my veins, feeling my arms and legs burning warm with energy.

"Three!"

I heard the sand fly out behind us, the branches crackling as we tore out of the bush, the twigs and leaves clawing at our skin and hair. All I heard the entire way to the wall was our sandals crunching the sand, our heaving breath, our clothes rustling from our arms and legs pumping, my heart pounding in my chest.

We made the distance in a few seconds, not long enough for any guards to see us. I prayed not long enough... I slid into the shadows of the palace, caused by the soft glow of the full moon. I looked around beind us, breathing in gasps from exertion, adrenaline, and fear. No, not fear, not real fear. Just afraid of being caught.

I didn't see any running guards, didn't hear any shouts. We must've not been seen.

_How in the Hell did we not get caught just then?_

Shaking my head at our amazingly good fortune, I turned to Isaac, who was already testing some of the beginning handholds on the wall. Correct with our first assessment, there were plenty of gargoyles, statues of angels, and other carvings in the stone that gave us ample holds to climb with.

I turned to look up at the tower, but the guards weren't looking out towards the palace; probably wouldn't since the palace was virtually next to the city walls. I turned to start climbing, but Isaac was already a few feet ahead of me. I pulled myself up, testing my weight with each step and grab to make sure it could hold my heavier body, whereas Isaac was climbing as fast as he could walk it seemed.

It took him a only a few minutes to scale the thirty feet or so to the third story, including going around the eight foot tall windows, whereas it took me a good thirty. While I caught up with him, Isaac circled around the side we were on and the south side to see which window led into the lord's son's bedroom. Within moments, he had found the window and snapped his fingers three times as a signal to me.

I circled around to him while he searched out a good spot to tie the rope down. By the time I had caught up to him, he was literally tugging on an already sturdy looking gargoyle. I couldn't help but be amazed at his rash behavior; if that statue had dislodged from the wall, it would crash to the ground and probably wake up everyone in the district, no doubt everyone within the palace walls.

He gave me a thumbs up after testing it thoroughly, which including kicking the damn thing. I nodded, moving towards the gargoyle while he moved out of the way. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck from the exertion of my arms and back. My fingers felt wooden from holding my weight in the air for so long, but I didn't dare try to shake out the numbness. That was a risk I couldn't, wasn't willing to take. When I was at the gargoyle, I examined it for a good place to tie off the rope. It's feet were solidly attached to the wall, the barest seam telling of the mortar used to seal it to the wall. It was the depiction of a devil, I guess. It was squatted down, its knees bowed out to the sides as its hands clasped the lip of the of ledge between its legs. Small horns sprouted from its forehead and its featureless eyes stared at the ground below without emotion. Wings were folded across its back.

I pulled myself up onto the thin, three inch ledge and slung one leg over behind it so that I now straddled the statue. My first instinct was to tie the rope down and be done with it. But then I was reminded of my heavier weight, and decided it was time to take a few risks of my own.

I placed my hands where its shoulder blades should've been and pushed. It didn't budge. I slowly leaned myself onto, and still no movement. Finally, with alot of anxiety, I launced myself at the gargoyle, slammed my hands onto it and shoved. All I got in return was stinging hands and a sore chest. I gave Isaac a thumbs up of my own and proceeded to untie the rope from around my waist and slip the rope in between one of its legs. Looping the rope in, out, and around itself, it didn't take me long to tie off a secure knot, one that I had been practicing for a week. Tugging at the rope to make sure it was good and tight, I slid off of the gargoyle and held onto the thick rope, walking down the wall.

When I was in line with the window, I looked to Isaac. His eyes were alive with anticipation, the moonlight bringing out the golden shine in them. "This is it," I said, daring to raise my voice above a murmur. He gave me a nod and replied, "This is it."

I nodded and hopped off the wall once, twice, gaining momentum. On the third leap, I tucked my legs into my body, forming a sort of ball. Just before I hit the window, I shot my legs straight out. The window shattered, fragments of glass slicing into my legs and sandaled feet.

I snapped my body forward as I let go of the rope, keeping as much of my momentum as I could to get into the room. I landed with an unceremonial thump on my rear, but the job was done. As I pulled myself to my feet, I surveyed the room.

Decorative wasn't quite the word for it; the son laid in a bed the was ornately carved from some sort of dark wood, swirls of symbols and angels fighting demons depicted in various places. Thin silk curtains hung from a canopy above the bed. A large dresser sat against the wall to my left, a large mirror standing next to it. The mirror was probably as tall as I was at least, and looked like silver glinted off of it from the way it shined in the sudden moonlight. On my right was a large cabinet, probably where the noble stored all of his costumes and high value clothing.

I heard Isaac scurry in behind me. "Grab the boy, I'll block the door," I ordered, moving towards the dresser. Isaac was quick to the bed, and I heard the smack of his fist, followed by the yelp and whine of the noble son.

I tossed the mirror out of the way, and it shattered against the lush carpet on the floor. Bracing my back against the side of the dresser, I felt my legs and back straining as I pushed it in front of the door. _What in the Hell did he have in this thing?_ It was heavy, heavy enough for nobody to intrude on our little encounter.

Outside the door, I could hear the muffled call of a guard, asking if the lord's son was alright. I heard a knock right as I set the dresser in place, right in front of the door. I was sure no one would be able to get through now. Satisifed with my work, I heard another smack and Isaac's voice as he growled, "Shut the hell up!"

I walked over to them, the noble's son was still in his bed, his arms and legs flailing out to the side as Isaac's hands were clamped down on his thin neck. I pulled Isaac off of him, and when he looked at me angrily, I said, "Let me in on some of the fun."

He gave me a grim smile while the worm on the bed cried out through his strangled voice, "Do you know who I am? I am Lord Faramount's son! He will..." The rest of his threat was drowned out by the back of my hand. Blood sprouted onto the corner of his lip. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, but damn it felt good.

"Do you know who I am," I asked, my voice low and deep, just like it did when I was royally pissed. And in truth, I was. The adrenaline was kicking in, testosterone flooding in my veins. This boy, this wretched thing below me had stolen much needed money from the one place I had called home for all my life. It was then that I realized how much I would miss that home once I had to leave. The food was warm; not very well cooked, but better than the trash the homeless had to eat. The beds were comfortable, not like the freezing cold nights in the desert, wind sweeping sand into your clothes and the most embarrassing places. Even the people, however they may be, had never raised a hand to me, never beat me unneccesarily. They had always been just and fair, even Aunt Dorothy, who had to put up with our chilidish antics. All of that only fueled my anger.

I grabbed the boy's nightshift by the chest, literally picked him up in my rage, and threw him into one of the walls four feet away. He slammed into the wall and fell to the floor, crumpling from the blow. I stood over him and asked again, "Do you know who I am?"

His only answer was an animal-like whine. He was cornered, hurt, scared, and he couldn't even muster up the courage of a stray dog. At least the dog would fight. He simply curled up into a little ball, covering his face with his arms.

Isaac kicked him in the gut, and, picking up what I was saying and going with it, "Of course not. We're just nameless wretches that you think is alright to steal money from."

"You steal from our home, the only sancturary we have. You steal money that we don't have, because the rich bastards like you that have the money to spend are too damn stingy to pay your donations," I growled. Then, I hauled him up off the floor, his night shift tight in my fists.

His eyes were clenched shut, his lower trembling. Even in the soft glow of the moon, I could see that he was as white as bone. "Look at me," I said, my voice low and threatening. He screwed his eyes shut tighter, his lip trembled violently now as tears started to form at the corners of his eyes.

I slammed him into wall, his head hitting the it hard enough to hear something crack. The guard outside must have heard the thump, and he started yelling for Faramount to open the door, banging his fist on the door. I felt a fierce grimace scrunch up my face, and a guttural snarl erupted from my throat. "Look at me!"

He did. The color drained from his already pale eyes. Good; he had every right to be afraid. I brought our faces inches apart, until I could smell the wine on his breath. "We're here to pay you you're punishment."

I flung him to the floor, where Isaac kicked him with solid thuds. I threw in a few of my kicks, beating his scrawny back into a pulp. The entire time, all the brat did was receive his beating, whimpering and crying.

I held up my hand to Isaac, who held off kicking for a moment. I turned the worm over onto his back, gripped his throat, and slammed my fist into his face. Once, twice, three times, my fist felt like iron, pulverizing his cheek into fragments of bone. Then, I lifted him up, locking his arms behind his back with my arms. Isaac started slamming his own fists into Faramount's stomach as if he were reading my mind. The almost soft-sounding thumps were interrupted only by the yelps of Faramount, Issac's grunts of exertion, and the guard's yells for the lord's son to open the door, banging his fist hard enough to splinter the door it seemed like.

It went on for a few minutes, blood dribbling down the brat's chin, his whimpers turning into gasps of air. Finally, I grabbed a fistful of the back of Faramount's hair and threw him into the wall. His face slammed into it with a snap, and he fell unconscious to the floor, his nose broken and his left eye black as night and swollen shut.

As I stood over the boy, I felt angry, vicious, _alive_. Never before had I done anything like this, nothing this violent. I had fought off gangs that were trying to beat Isaac, most likely for something he deserved. I had always done so with control, letting those who no longer had the guts to fight anymore run off to lick their wounds. I had felt triumphant then, but now, I felt as if nothing could beat me. I was _invincible_.

One look into Isaac's eyes and I knew he felt the same thing, felt the power coursing through his veins. Then, the next thing I felt was completely unexpected; shame. I looked back to Faramount's broken face, his body slumped unceremoniously on the ground. Horror flooded through my mind; _what have I done_?

I wiped my face with my hands, running my fingers through my hair. Then, with another horrific revelation, I looked down at my hands. They were strong, thick and calloused from a lifetime of work with horses, hammers, anything that I could do to find work. At that point in time, they looked like weapons, tools used by a killer. I turned them over; my left hand was smooth and umblemished, while my right was covered in Faramount's blood, the skin over the knuckles torn, only accentuating the realizations.

My breath was hard to come by, and I looked back up to Isaac, who was watching me curiously. When he opened his mouth to say something, I held up my hand to silence him. Something was wrong, something was out of place. When I heard silence, my heart stopped. "The guard," I hissed. "Where'd the guard go!"

Isaac's filled with the same realization as mine. "Let's go," he said, and he started for the window. At that point in time, the door behind us splintered open. I rolled to the side, Isaac diving over the bed and getting tangled up in the silk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white figure flying through the air.

When I was on my feet again, I was facing a hooded figure clad in a white robe with a red sash around his waist. In his hand was the deadliest, sharpest, most beautiful sword I had ever laid eyes on. It reflected the moonlight perfectly and I imagined seeing myself in the reflection of the steel. Only it wasn't clean; wet blood dripped from the tip of the blade, staining the carpet below.

I couldn't see the man's eyes from within the shadows of his cowl, although a pronounced nose was clear, sharper than Isaac's. Thin lips were surrounded by a graying stubble. His hands were relaxed around the sword, his body perfectly balanced and poised to strike at any moment. I stood there for what seemed like ages, staring into the shadows of this man's eyes, feeling his eyes penetrating mine.

Finally, he asked, "Who are you?" His voice was calm, even, deadly. I felt my hands clench and unclench. Isaac stood up, trying to yank the silk away from his body. "We could ask you the same question," he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice...until he saw the sword and the man that wielded it. He froze like I did, eyes bulging wide. We glanced at each other; this wasn't part of the plan was all I could think of.

"I'm the one with the sword," he said calmly. "You are the ones that will answer my questions. Now speak, or you will join the guard outside the door and the late Lord Faramount."

I saw Isaac about to speak and I cut him off, saying, "Just hear us out. We have a good reason to be here."

After a moment, the man gave an almost imperceptible nod, allowing us to continue. Gaining courage, I explained the situtation to him. "We're orphans. Faramount's son stole from our church, our home. We thought it was only fair that he be dealt punishment. The guards wouldn't do it, and nobody else would do it for us. We decided it was up to us to protect our home."

The man stood there silently, I suppose letting everything soak in. Finally, he nodded, and relaxed from his battle stance. I didn't though. Neither did Isaac.

The man glanced back through the now open doorway. "Do you have a way out," he asked us. Isaac nodded and said, "Down the rope and over the walls."

The man nodded and made his way over to the son's body. "Good, I suggest you take it before the guards become truly alert."

I nodded and turned to Isaac, not having to motion for him to follow; neither of us wanted to stay in the presence of this obviously dangerous man for another second. However, Isaac saw what I heard; the sickening sound of metal sliding into flesh. I turned back around to see the man pulling his sword out of Faramount's chest, his previously limp body now truly lifeless.

Isaac dared to take a step forward and say, "You bastard! You can't do that!" I knew from his voice that it was mostly fear that gave his voice power, but some of that was also outrage. "You don't have the right!"

"Yet you have the right to sneak into a drunken teenager's bedchambers and beat him senseless for stealing a penny from your precious church! Who gives you that right," the man snarled.

Isaac was speechless for a moment, but I spoke up, "We did. We were willing to accept the responsibility and the burden of what we did. That's how we have the right."

The man seemed stooped at what I said, and I never would've expected the next thing he did. His lips spread into a smile. He cast another glance towards the door, and then took a step towards us. We took a step back, fearing we had angered him.

"Do you want to live at that church for the rest of your lives," he asked us. The question struck me as odd; I actually had never really thought about it. The church itself seemed permanent, a safe haven for everyone who needed aid. I didn't expect to stay there for very much longer. I was hoping to find work soon after tonight and save enough up to move somewhere else, maybe to Acre or Damascus. However, giving the unspoken question a voice was odd, seemed almost ghostly.

I glanced to Isaac, who was apparently having the same thoughts as I was. We both looked back to the man and shook our heads. The man nodded and continued.

"I can show you a world beyond your wildest dreams. You will learn how to wield a blade, how to blend into the shadows, stand in the middle of a crowd and be invisible. You can have glory, honor. You can be protectors of the weak, helpers of the poor. But the road to these things will have a great cost; there will much sacrifice, blood, sweat, and tears. Friends made and friends lost. Your beliefs will be challenged, and you will make enemies. You may not even live for much longer if you choose this road."

"But if you choose this road, you be the protectors of truth, dealers of justice, and the beacon for good people in every land. I leave the choice up to you."

Casting another glance through the open doorway, he turned back to us. "I will visit your church in three days. If you decide to join me, have any valuables you wish to keep packed and ready to go."

With that, the mysterious man sprinted back through doorway, not even breaking stride as he vaulted over the dresser. I looked to Isaac, and he looked to me. And we simply stood there for a few moments, the silence nearly overwhelming. A new life? Truth? Justice? The idea of that was enticing indeed. All we had to do was leave everything behind. Could we do that? Could _I_ do that?

I was broken from my trance by the sound of a guard shouting from downstairs, whose voice was quickly no more. Letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding, I said, "Let's get out of here." Isaac nodded and we slid down the rope outside the window. Sprinting across the courtyard, we climbed the stairs two at a time, no longer caring if guards saw us or not. I was in the lead, being the first to slide down the rope.

At the top of the staircase, a guard stood to block our way, his hand on his hilt. "Stop! In the name of Lord Faramo-" He didn't have the opportunity to say anything else as I rammed my shoulder into him. He stumbled backwards, then hit the wall. The momentum carried his torso over the city wall, and his arms and legs hung wierdly in the air for a moment. Time seemed to slow as his body continued to flip over the side of the wall. His screams were cut off by a loud thump as he hit the ground below.

I didn't have time to think about it, an arrow whistling past my ear. I sprinted down the walkway until I found a building close enough for me to jump to. Soon, Isaac and I were in a race back to the church, questions boiling in my mind the entire way. Some about what had just happened, who the man was. Some about the new life that I could have. But mostly, I had questions about what I had done, why I had felt that way, and what I could be willing to do in my next life.


	2. First Steps

Three days had passed since the man in white had offered us a new position. Those three days were so nerve-racking. I don't think I had one good night's sleep, laying awake long into the night at the words, the offer, the strange man had given us. Whenever I did sleep, I was jolted awake by the sight of his sword, the deadly steel glinting at the tip with a predatory shine.

Isaac was having much less trouble than I was. His lack of sleep was due to excitement, and every waking moment, his excitement bubbled over in anticipation. I was excited as well, but I also felt…odd. Leaving the only home I'd ever known…well, it was scary; frightening even. I wasn't sure if I could do it, but on the third day, true to his word, the man had appeared.

Another orphan had come to tell us that Father Muhammad wanted to see us. Isaac and I made our way to his office, a small, cluttered room on the other side of the orphanage. And there, seated in front of the Father's constantly cluttered desk, was the man, the miracle that we had dreamed of. He wore the same attire he did three nights ago. His hood still wrapped his face in shadows, although his nose down was still visible. At his hip, that devilishly beautiful sword hung in its scabbard.

The stranger had his legs crossed and his shoulders were relaxed, as if he were in the presence of an old friend. Even Father Muhammad's eyes lit up at the sight of Isaac and me appearing at the door. "Come in, boys," he said cheerily, his wrinkled face crinkling into his usual smile, his kind brown eyes warming more than usual. "Please, take a seat."

Isaac and me sat at the only other two chairs in the room, both in front of the desk. Without a thought, I sat in the chair between the stranger and the chair on the very end. Isaac huffed slightly, obviously wanting to get closer to this man. I sat down without blinking at him, keeping my eyes trained on the Father.

When we were both seated, Father Muhammad leaned back in his old, oak chair. He set his elbows on the chair's arm rests and crossed his fingers together in a steeple. He nodded towards the stranger as he started to speak. "This is my friend, Al-Mualim. He says you have met before."

I saw Isaac nod beside me, and at my slight hesitation, he kicked my foot, the desk blocking the Father's view. I nodded as well.

"He said he regards you highly, saw that you had skills that he was hoping to put to use," the aged man said. "Is this correct, Al-Mualim?"

"It is," the stranger said, nodding slightly. "I have indeed seen that these two young men have certain…skills that I find extremely useful."

Father Muhammad and this Al-Mualim stared at each other for a few moments, seeming to speak silently to each other through their thoughts. Then, the Father looked at us and broke the silence. "How would you boys like to leave the orphanage, start a life of your own?"

Isaac nearly jumped out of his seat beside me. I sat there for a moment, leaning back in my chair and staring at my hands. It didn't seem real…we were really going to leave this place? I couldn't help but think of all the things I would miss; the warm beds, the stories that the Sisters sometimes told to the younger orphans, Aunt Dorothy…I couldn't help but shake my head in disbelief.

"Is there something wrong, Adrian," the Father asked, obviously noticing that I had shaken my head.

"No, Father," I answered quickly. A smile spread onto my face without me willing it to. "It's just…it doesn't seem real."

"It is, I assure you," Father said, his voice turning serious. "The path Al-Mualim is showing you will be full of hardship, as I'm sure he has already told you." A nod from Al-Mualim confirmed that he had. "But if you succeed, there is no other way to receive a better place in the kingdom of our Lord." His smile had returned slightly, and his gleamed with joy. "Do you accept Al-Mualim's offer?" I glanced at Isaac, who had glanced at me as well. At the same time, we both answered, "We do."

Father clapped his hands together in joy. "Excellent," he cried. "Al-Mualim, will you be staying the night? I have some rooms available for you and your…apprentices."

Al-Mualim raised his hand and shook his head. "Nay, friend; I have business waiting for me in Masyaf. I will be late enough as it is, although I believe Ra'id will be pleased that I will bring two new recruits with me."

"I am certain that he will be," Father Muhammad agreed solemnly. "But, if you cannot stay the night, I insist that you accept some of my hospitality in light of a successful mission, good fortune, and long friends found again. I offer you anything. All you need do is ask, my friend."

"I would appreciate a horse and spare for these two," Al-Mualim said, tilting his head towards us. "We've a long way to go, and I'm afraid one horse won't make it without going lame." Father nodded his head sagely, saying, "Of course. Let's see; the horse merchant outside the castle will be your best bet. He's always given me a good price on any horses that I've bought there before." Al-Mualim nodded, accepting the advice. As Al-Mualim stood, so did Father Muhammad. I stood as well, elbowing Isaac to follow suit.

"I will secure the horse arrangements, and then return to collect the apprentices," Al-Mualim said. "That should give them enough time to prepare any belongings for travel."

"Of course," Father Muhammad said. Al-Mualim and the Father both shook hands and I noticed something I didn't before; the Father was missing his ring finger, as was Al-Mualim. The Father had always told us that it was to proclaim his faith to God, but I suddenly got the feeling that it was for a different cause.


End file.
